


Christmas Dinner at Dimitri's (And Edelgard's)

by GhirahimJohnson



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: BOOMERS AT CHRISTMAS, Edelgard and Dimitri are step siblings, I wrote half of this while drunk, Jewish Dorothea, Jewish Hubert, No slurs are used, Other, no beta we die like Glenn, nonbinary byleth, slightly offensive remarks, very minor trans Felix if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:55:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21943963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhirahimJohnson/pseuds/GhirahimJohnson
Summary: Dimitri sighs, poking all the boxes on the shelves as they pass. “I love them because they’re family, but…” He almost knocks one over, but catches himself and then keeps his hands at his sides. “They never speak to Dedue and I hate it. They don’t even look him in the eyes!”Edelgard nods. “They still don’t think I like girls. Even though I’ve brought girlfriends over before.”Claude clenches his teeth and hisses. “Yeesh. Sounds like my dad’s parents.” He leans back, letting himself hang a bit off the cart as Edelgard pushes it. “Luckily, my dad is nice enough not to invite them over for Christmas.”“Claude,” Dimitri says, “You don’t celebrate Christmas.”In which Dimitri and Edelgard both dislike Lambert's boomer parents, but they're coming over for Christmas Eve dinner.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/Claude von Riegan, Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra, all relationships are SUPER minor and not really the focus, but they're there technically
Comments: 19
Kudos: 189





	Christmas Dinner at Dimitri's (And Edelgard's)

**Author's Note:**

> MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYBODY

Edelgard, lying on the sofa on her stomach, ankles crossed in the air, closes her phone. After a long Junior fall semester, it’s nice to be back at home with the family - She’d stayed at her father’s house for the week immediately after finals. Now, she’s at her step-father’s and mother’s house.

Edelgard rolls over, realizes she’s on top of the remote, and then pulls it out from underneath her. She flicks back to the channel that was playing all the Rankin/Bass Christmas specials since her butt had changed it. “The Year Without a Santa Claus” is on. 

She loves her father dearly, but her mother’s house is much more lively, considering all Edelgard’s older siblings are estranged.

In the armchair nearby, Dimitri is upside-down with his legs dangling over the back. He tries to pour the last of his orange gatorade into his mouth, but then chokes and spills some onto his tee-shirt. 

It’s always been nice living with Dimitri. 

There’s a murmur from their parents in the kitchen, and then a long sigh and an opening, (and don’t forget a closing) of the fridge. Lambert meanders through the archway and down the three little carpeted stairs into the living room with his kids. He takes a seat on the arm of the couch, popping open a can of Vienna sausage. 

“Kids…” Lambert’s using his warning tone, the one Edelgard and Dimitri know too well and never like. Yes, they’re both adults, but they’re still his kids. Lambert pokes at a pink sausage with his fork. “Pop and Gramma are coming to Christmas Eve dinner tomorrow.”

Dimitri nearly tumbles out of the chair while Edelgard sits bolt upright. 

Lambert’s parents are the _worst._

They are Bible-thumping, right-winging, judgemental boomers. The first two things could be forgiven, albeit with difficulty, if they were at least _nice._ But they’re insufferable! Gramma nags, Pop gripes, Edelgard wants to rip out her eardrums. They don’t believe Edelgard is bisexual, they think she’s just “experimenting” in college - even though it wasn’t until after graduation that she actually messed around with boys. But Edelgard and girls… well, come on, they’re _girls._ They’ve never liked Dedue, which Edelgard and Dimitri still cannot fathom - who doesn’t like Dedue?! He’s a perfect human being! Not to mention _Claude._ Oh, they _hate_ Claude. Agnostic, anti-capitalist, an immigrant, biracial, bisexual - he’s an anti-boomer emporium. 

Ugh. And they keep trying to pressure Edelgard into dating Hubert. 

“Daddy, please, do they have to come?” Edelgard would be ashamed of her whining if their entire Christmas wasn’t on the line. 

Lambert frowns sympathetically through his sausages. He chews and swallows before answering her. “Pumpkin, I know they can be diffi-”

“Abhorrently conservative.” Edelgard finishes.

“I know, honey.” Lambert sighs and purses his lips in a tight, sad line. “But they’re still family.” 

Edelgard crosses her arms and pouts while Dimitri takes up the fight from the floor. 

“The only good thing those two have ever done for our family is make you, Dad.”

Lambert blinks. “What about Uncle Rufus?” 

“I said what I said.”

Lambert just shakes his head, placing his empty sausage can on the coffee table and sticking his fork carefully inside to keep it from tipping over. “Well, we don’t have to worry about Uncle Rufus this year, he’s abroad.” 

_Good_ , Edelgard and Dimitri both think. 

“Don’t make those frowns,” Lambert tries to cheer them up, “Hubert, Dedue, and Claude are still welcome to join us for dinner tomorrow night.” 

“Are those the only guests allowed?” Edelgard asks. 

Lambert claps his hands in realization. “Oh, right! Claude is welcome to bring his girlfriend, too.” 

Although they’re more akin to ‘Best Friends Who Also Bone,’ neither Edelgard nor Dimitri correct him.

“If that’s the case,” Edelgard starts, “Then Hubert’s allowed to bring his boyfriend, too, right?”

“Oh, good for Hubert!” Lambert exclaims, dodging the question, “Who’s his boyfriend?”

“Ferdinand. You remember Ferdinand?”

Lambert nods. “Of course! Who could forget Ferdinand?”

“You don’t remember Ferdinand.”

“I… No, no I don’t.”

“Well then!” Edelgard smiles. “All the more reason to let him come so you can get a refresher, right Daddy?”

“Edelgard…”

Dimitri stands and approaches the couch, crossing his arms over his now orange-stained and fruit-smelling shirt. “Dad, wait, I wanna invite Felix and Sylvain!”

“Yeah, I know, Dimitri. In fact, Rodrigue is actually joining us, so Felix will be here anyway.” 

“But what about Sylvain?” Dimitri asks, barely letting Lambert finish his sentence. 

“I’m texting Ferdinand and he’s asking if he can bring Dorothea,” Edelgard adds. 

Lambert closes his eyes and exhales through his nose. “Kids, please…”

“Daddy, Dimitri gets to bring two extra friends,” Edelgard points out. “So can’t I invite Dorothea and Ferdinand?”

“What are Claude and Hilda, then?” Lambert asks, rubbing his temples in exasperation.

“Well, they’re required,” Dimitri and Edelgard answer simultaneously. 

“Don’t you remember what happened last year when I let you invite Caspar, Edelgard?” Lambert’s voice is pained with regret. 

Ah, last Christmas Eve. Caspar, sitting at the head of the table, had incited a volatile conversation about the death penalty after drinking too much eggnog. And then, because it’s on brand for Caspar, he got sick. While still at the table. Lambert’s mother had fainted. 

It was a wonderful Christmas Eve, Edelgard remembers fondly. 

“Daddy, I promise, they’re much more tame than that,” Edelgard insists. 

“I like Ferdinand,” Dimitri offers. “Dorothea, too. And they’ll both sing Christmas karaoke with you.”

Dimitri, you beautiful genius. Lambert’s brows instantly raise up in intrigue. “Is that so?” After he receives two enthusiastic nods, he throws in the towel. “Well… It’s Christmas, after all. You both can invite your friends, but everyone sans Dedue and Hubert is sitting at the kids table.” He stands up from the sofa’s arm. “Which you’re both going to help me move from the basement.” 

Mmhmm. The infamous, bright, block-colored Little Tikes picnic table. A beautiful thing that makes an appearance every holiday after collecting cobwebs for most of the year. It used to have an umbrella attached, but a four-year-old Dimitri snapped it clean off and then cried about it for days. How they’ll sequester six adults around it is a mystery, but it’ll have to be done. 

Once that thing is out of the basement and plopped into the dining room, Edelgard and Dimitri squeeze Lambert in a hug and thank him. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

December 24th. The day of reckoning. 

It’s a little after 11 in the morning, and Edelgard is more than ready to start the day. She’s donned her Christmas regalia: A proper Santa Hat with fluffy white trim and a pom-pom at the tip and a red sweater. Said red sweater has a green and white Christmas tree pattern stretching horizontally over the top and bottom of the front, as well as the bases of the sleeves. There are thick, embroidered snowflakes dotting the rest of the sleeves and the back of the sweater, as well as more pom-poms interspersed between them. Smack-dab in the middle of the sweater is an embroidered face of Karl Marx, underneath text that reads “MERRY CHRISTMARX.” 

It’s the little things in life that Edelgard loves, such as petty holiday gear. 

A loud rapping on the door brings Edelgard to open it and receive the delightful sight of Claude on their snowy doorstep. His whole gaudy ensemble is dusted with snow. He’s holding his winter coat open to show off his sweater, which sports a hypnotically ugly red, white, blue, and green argyle pattern that clashes gorgeously with the striped sleeves. The whole thing is strung with bells. In the center sits a large and poorly drawn reindeer face. It’s grinning, with its teeth enlarged, and for some reason, the teeth are made of a felt completely different than the woolly knit. He’s also made sure to wear a big scarf, red, green, and yellow, and paisley patterned. The icing on this ugly cake is Claude’s headband - bright yellow reindeer antlers with built-in lights that he found while thrifting with Hilda.

“Ho ho ho! Santa Claude is here!” Claude bellows, and pinches the tip of one antler to make his lights blink in a rainbow of colors. 

“You look disgusting,” Edelgard greets him, stepping aside to let him in. 

“I try my best,” Claude says, paired with a smirk and a wink, as he picks up the two small gift bags that were sitting behind him and hands them to Edelgard. 

Her eyes light up as she rushes them over to the Christmas tree. “Oh… you didn’t have to get us anything!”

“Ah, don’t thank me yet,” Claude warns, leaning against the archway and still wearing that smirk. He points at the bags. “Those presents come with a fee.”

“Oh? And what might that be?” Edelgard tilts her head and places her hands on her hips. 

Claude flicks his wrist to now point upward, right at the mistletoe Edelgard had hung on the archway in her state of Christmas hubris. 

“Technically, we both stepped under it at the same time, so the rules-”

Edelgard cuts him off with a laugh and joins him under the little plant. “I hear you, you don’t have to beg.”

Claude just chuckles, moving his hands to her waist as he kisses her. His smile is warm and genuine after he pulls away, all the smarm dissolved. “Good to see you, Edel-ladel.”

Edelgard can’t help but laugh again at the ridiculous nickname. “Mmhmm. Merry Christmas, Claude.”

Dimitri raises his head from the sofa where he was lounging and watching “Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer” on the TV mounted above the fireplace. “Hey! That’s my sister, you know!”

“Oh my Goddess, how could I be so cruel?!” Claude wails, melodramatically flailing himself onto the couch, on top of Dimitri. “I didn’t forget you, you big oaf!” he coos, puckering his lips. Claude smothers his whole face with kisses as Dimitri blushes and laughs, eventually jostling him onto the opposite end of the sofa. 

Dimitri, participating in the festivities with equal fervor, is in a blue sweater with typical snowy patterns - save a giant wolf on the bottom right, with a furry tail hanging awkwardly off the corner of the sweater. Above the wolf, in an embroidered speech bubble, are the words “Happy Howlidays.”

“Why are you here so early?” he asks Claude. 

“Maybe because I missed him?” Edelgard answers. 

Dimitri blinks, gears a-turning. “...You wanted him to help with the cooking.”

“Yes.”

“It’s about time you let me help!” Claude pipes up, crossing his arms and then crossing his legs over Dimitri’s lap. “No offense, Dimitri, but Blaiddyds don’t season their food.”

Dimitri presses his palm to his forehead. “Ugh… And here I thought Sylvain was just giving me a hard time…”

The three stooges chatter away as they climb into Dimitri’s car to depart for some grocery shopping. Lucky for them, their usual one is still open. Edelgard grabs a cart while Dimitri holds their list, and they peruse through the aisles with Claude riding the back of the cart. 

“So where’s Hilda?” Dimitri asks.

Claude scoffs. “Hilda? Help with food shopping and cooking?”

“Ah, right.”

“Dimitri,” Edelgard calls, picking up some bags of Betty Crocker cookie mix, “Grab some red and green sprinkles. I wanna make Christmas tree sugar cookies again.”

Dimitri plucks the two shakers from the spice rack while Claude hops off the cart to scoop up about a million other spices. 

Dimitri places his shakers into the cart’s baby basket. “What are all those?” 

“You’ve never met them before, but they’re seasonings,” Claude replies, dumping his harvest ungracefully into the cart as the tiny containers clang against the metal. “I’m gonna blow your fuckin’ mind tonight.”

“Maybe if you season it well enough, Dimitri’s grandparents will hate it and leave,” Edelgard jokes. For once, it makes everyone laugh. Sometimes she’s funny.

Dimitri sighs, poking all the boxes on the shelves as they pass. “I love them because they’re family, but…” He almost knocks one over, but catches himself and then keeps his hands at his sides. “They never speak to Dedue and I hate it. They don’t even look him in the eyes!”

Edelgard nods. “They still don’t think I like girls. Even though I’ve brought girlfriends over before.”

Claude clenches his teeth and hisses. “Yeesh. Sounds like my dad’s parents.” He leans back, letting himself hang a bit off the cart as Edelgard pushes it. “Luckily, my dad is nice enough not to invite them over for Christmas.”

“Claude,” Dimitri says, “You don’t celebrate Christmas.”

Swiftly, Claude swipes some boxes of Stouffers stuffing mix from a passing shelf and tosses them into the cart. “Well, what is Christmas anyway but a capitalist sham?”

Edelgard nods sagely. “It’s lost all meaning. This grocery store shouldn’t even be open right now. I feel bad being here and contributing to this. It’s hypocritical.”

Claude hops off of the cart and picks up a box of Sprite Cranberry. It’s decked out in red and green, with white snowflakes and a big holly graphic. “Look at this!” He holds up the box higher. “Christmas is just an advertising ploy. Companies just abuse the holiday to sell as much as possible. It’s so secularized now that my whole family may as well celebrate it!”

Dimitri frowns. “Wait, I like the Sprite Cranberry. Put it in the cart.”

“Tragic,” Claude sighs, sliding the box onto the rack under the cart, “They just got another one.”

“I agree with you, Claude,” Edelgard continues. “Back in school, I never appreciated how Principal Rhea glorified Christmas so much, and then left every other holiday in the dust. Hanukkah, especially! A good number of our classmates were Jewish.” Edelgard shakes her head. “And she wondered why Hubert never liked her.”

“I thought Hubert was an atheist,” Dimitri says. 

“Well, yeah, but I mean, that’s not the point.” 

“Fuck them boomers!” Claude exclaims. The other two seem to vibe with that. They keep on vibin’ as they gather the rest of the menu for the evening and head on home. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s about a quarter to three. The turkey has been implanted in the oven. 

Dedue arrived around one o’clock to help with the cooking because he’s a genius. He’s wearing an adorable apron with a big Gingerbread Man on it over a lovely, beige cowl-neck sweater. He’s got a hat with elf ears on the sides, but it’s borrowed from Dimitri so the elf ears are comically paler than him.

Claude comes stomping down the stairs and bursts into the kitchen as Edelgard and Dedue are wrapping plates of cookies in saran wrap to put in the fridge for later. Patricia is beside them, finishing up some mashed potatoes. All three lift their heads to behold Claude, who is now wearing a reindeer onesie (of course, with his gross sweater and putrid scarf on top). 

“Check it out!” Claude lifts one leg. “I have hooves!”

“This is a nightmare,” Edelgard replies, grinning from ear to ear. 

Patricia smiles, and there’s a glint in her eyes. “I’m sure that’ll be a hit tonight.”

Dedue busies himself with pouring some pasta into a pot - for the mac and cheese Dimitri likes - before smiling at Claude as well. Edelgard sprinkles salt into the pot as Dedue fills it with water, and Claude moves to the fridge to grab a fat brick of cheese and start grating. 

At the front door, Dimitri is jogging to meet a ringing doorbell. Patricia, slipping by to head upstairs, pauses him with a kiss on the cheek before he opens the door. 

He’s met with a loud chorus of three “Merry Christmas!”es and then Felix’s bah humbug pout. Hilda and Dorothea are on him first with a cheerful hug. Sylvain waits his turn before he opens up his big arms and pulls Felix into a bear hug with Dimitri. All four come inside, out of the snow, wiping their boots on the welcome mat and towels Patricia had laid on the floor. 

Well, Sylvain is wearing sneakers for some ungodly reason. And basketball shorts. 

“What is wrong with you?” Edelgard calls from the kitchen where she can see the atrocity. Sylvain has paired a godawful black Rick and Morty Christmas sweater with big, red basketball shorts. And knee-high green socks with Santa-flamingos on them? He’s a whole bucket of fuckery.

“I mean…” Grinning, Sylvain bends his elbows and rests his hands on the back of his neck. “I was specifically instructed to look… What was it, Felix?” 

“Atrocious,” Felix answers, hanging his heavy coat up in the closet in favor of his dark, sleeveless turtleneck. 

“Right.” Sylvain clicks his tongue against the side of his teeth and winks. “And I mean, it’s not a far walk. I live down the street.” He dusts some snow off of his long legs. 

“There’s no use arguing with a dumbass,” Dorothea sighs, and then races into the kitchen. “Ediiiiieee!” she squeals, twirling her around in her embrace. She’s in a very cute sweater-dress and candy cane tights. They each cup the other’s cheeks happily and share a kiss. 

“I’m so happy you could come! I thought you might be busy tonight.”

Dorothea waves her hand. “No, my Bubby doesn’t get off her plane until 10PM tonight. We’re waiting to light the menorah until she gets to the house.”

From the hallway, Hilda gasps and stares, jaw agape, through the open arch at Claude. “Oohhhh my Goddess you’re kidding meeee!” She bursts out laughing as she rushes to greet him in the kitchen. She’s wearing his Olive the Other Reindeer sweater and little, red jingle bell earrings. 

“Just honoring my history is all!” Claude smirks. “And doing my best to solidify my worst impression on Dimitri’s grandparents,” he adds in a lower voice. 

Hilda claps her hands. “Yes, I’m so ready for drama tonight!”

“Felix, where’s Rodrigue?” Dimitri asks, settling on the couch with him and Sylvain. 

“He’s at elf practice,” Felix answers nonchalantly, and stretches himself across both of their laps. He rests his head on Sylvain’s thigh to maximize hair petting. 

“Yeah, Dimitri, why the fuck weren’t _you_ at elf practice?” Sylvain antagonizes, grinning his crooked, dimpled grin. 

Dimitri places his hand directly over Sylvain’s face. “Whore.” 

Sylvain sputters and laughs, swatting him away. 

Dedue comes into the living room to greet the three lads with mugs of hot cocoa, which they graciously accept and respond with adoring hugs. Dedue is big and warm to hug. He settles in the armchair, and Dimitri frees himself from Felix’s legs to sit himself on the arm beside Dedue. 

“Oh, sweet, dude!” Sylvain exclaims, clicking through channels with one hand while the other scratches Felix’s head. “Rudolph is on. Fuckin’ love Rudolph.”

Dedue and Dimitri, who equally love Rankin/Bass’s Rudolph, sip their cocoa and watch contently. 

A short while later, Hubert and Ferdinand arrive together, wearing ‘matching’ sweaters. Hubert’s says, “I’m His” while Ferdinand’s says, “I’m He’s.” Surprisingly enough, it had been Hubert’s idea. 

Edelgard and Dorothea scurry out form the kitchen to receive them in a loving hug. The two girls kiss both their cheeks. Ferdinand lingers on Hubert’s arm while the dark-haired man tries to stifle a smile. They conglomerate in the living room with the Faerghus gents. 

“Ferdie, Hubie, oh my gosh!” Dorothea squeals, gesturing to their sweaters. “You two are so mushy!”

Ferdinand blushes, brushing his hair behind his ear self-consciously. “Ah, I forgot… About Dimitri’s grandparents. Should we change…?”

Dimitri shakes his head. “No. We actually insist that you two go all-out couple-y. No holds barred.”

Hubert raises a brow. “No holds barred, eh?” He rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Are your grandparents staying in the spare bedroom like usual?” 

Dimitri blinks. “Uh, yeah.”

“Well, in that case,” Hubert turns to Ferdinand. “I suggest we have vigorous sex in there. If there are no holds barred.”

While Ferdinand’s face glows redder than Rudolph on the TV, Dimitri chokes on his own spit and accidentally shatters his mug in his fist. 

Hubert cackles. “Mazel tov.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Edelgard has brought out about half of the batch of cookies she’d made and set them on the coffee table. Everyone has conglomerated in the living room while Dimitri and Edelgard’s parents are out picking up… the boomers. 

Sylvain, Claude, and Hubert have occupied themselves with an old, rickety game of Mousetrap that miraculously still functions. Felix has relaxed enough to lay his head over Dedue’s lap, using his giant thighs as a firm pillow while Dedue’s large and gentle hand absentmindedly caresses his head. Hilda is sitting beside them while Edelgard goes to sit in Dorothea’s lap in the armchair. Ferdinand and Dimitri are digging into some cookies, sitting criss-crossed together close to the fireplace. 

“So,” Dorothea starts, wrapping her arms around Edelgard’s waist and squeezing her affectionately. She rests her chin on Edelgard’s shoulder. “Just how bad are these grandparents?”

“Oh, bad,” Edelgard answers immediately, and Dimitri adds a resounding, “Yep, they’re the worst.”

“They’re horrendous.” Hubert chuckles as he rolls his dice and then collects a couple cheese pieces. “Dorothea, did you know that when I first met them, they thought my name was Jewbert?”

Dorothea’s jaw falls open, and her eyes widen like dinner plates. “I’m… appalled.”

Hilda finishes chewing a cookie. “Yeah, they sound disgusting. I can’t wait to hear all the dumb shit they try to say.”

Dimitri sighs. “Oh, there will be some… gems.”

Dorothea holds a hand up to the side of her face to feign a whisper. “Dimitri, Dimitri…!” When he looks at her, she glances nervously from side to side. “This has kinda been bothering us for awhile, but… Um… Did you know that…” She leans in closer and hisses, scandalized, “Dedue is BLACK?!”

Dedue raises his elbow to his face and tries to hide his laughter with some coughing. The rest of their friends raise their voices in a chorus of groans and laughs. 

Hilda joins in, pretending to scoff in frustration. “I just don’t understand all these new letters! L-G-B-T-A-B-C-D-E… Just stop shoving it in our face!” 

“Dimitri,” Felix adds, unexpectedly sitting up, “I hope you’re not talking to any, uh…” He raises his hand to his face and squints, pretending to read off of it while everyone leans in with anticipation. “...granstender…?”

The room shrieks with laughter. Hilda fuckin chokes, and Sylvain nearly knocks the board game off the goddamn table screeching, “BABE, OH MY LORD.” Felix lets out a self-satisfied chuckle. 

Dorothea, through her laughter and between gasps, continues, “Oh, Edelgard, I _love_ that Hubert boy…! But… isn’t he… you know…?”

Hilda gasps in mock astonishment. “A HOME OF SEXUAL?!” she finishes. 

“WORSE!” Dorothea wails. “A JEWISH!”

They both fake distraught screams while Hubert cackles. Sylvain wheezes, “Why, oh my fucking god…!” He clutches the coffee table and his ribs. “I’m gonna fucking _pass gas_.” Felix hits him over the head with a pillow while he keeps laughing. 

Claude clasps his hands together to beg, “Oh Dimitri PLEASE don’t invite your dirty friend from Iraq!” Everyone roars with laughter as he continues, “PLEASE we don’t like him at all!”

Sylvain is on the floor crying hysterically, grasping at his ribcage as he howls. “ _I can’t breathe, oh fuck, I can’t fucking breathe!_ ” He nearly kicks Claude in his fit and Claude jostles his leg away, laughing himself. 

Ferdinand is smiling cluelessly until Dimitri leans into his ear and whispers that Claude is actually from Iran. To which Ferdinand laughs and says, “Oh! That’s so funny!”

The entire room silences when they hear the lock on the door turning. 

Edelgard checks her phone. 6:13 P.M. The moment of reckoning is upon them. 

She stands up and holds out a hand to help up Dimitri, and they both walk solemnly to the front door. 

Lambert opens up the door, snow dusting the blond hair sticking out from the sides of his ushanka hat and speckling his facial hair. He smiles, rosy-cheeked, at his kids before stepping inside with a soft, “Hey, rascals.” He holds the door open to let Patricia inside… and then… his parents. Edelgard and Dimitri brace themselves with toothy smiles as their Gramma comes up and pinches their cheeks with her too-long, manicured nails. 

“Merry Christmas, you two little munchkins!” she croons, while Pop just walks in and grunts. He peers through the archway at the gaggle of college students in the living room, and grunts again as he meanders toward the dining room. Gramma Blaiddyd’s gaze follows his, and she inspects everyone as they smile politely at her. Ferdinand waves.

“Hmm. I don’t recognize everybody here,” she says. 

Dimitri smiles. “Would you like to be introduced, Gramma?”

Her mouth pulls downward in hesitation. “Eh, um, maybe in a little bit.” She hurries toward the end of the hall. “Edelgard, Hubert is here, are you two dating yet?”

Edelgard musters all the strength she has not to roll her eyes. She just keeps smiling. “No, we’re not. Hubert is actually dating someone else.” She nods, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet with her hands behind her back. “The man with the lovely red hair. Ferdinand.”

Gramma swallows and licks her wrinkled lips, opens her mouth, and then closes it. She waves her hand dismissively. “That’s alright, he was J-”

“Dad, you want me to help you get the turkey out of the oven?!” Dimitri calls loudly. 

Edelgard sighs as Gramma Blaiddyd waddles into the dining room to go join her husband. Ugh. This is already off to a horrible start. She jogs back into the living room and waves her arm. “Okay, let’s roundup in the dining room.”

“Time to die,” Sylvain murmurs, helping Hubert clean up the game pieces and fold up the board. The front door opens again as Felix, Lambert, and Dimitri scamper expectantly to it. 

Rodrigue grins at Lambert as Dimitri holds the front door for him. “Merry Christmas!” he exclaims, embracing his friend in a warm hug as they exchange manly back-pats. Rodrigue smiles at Felix after pulling away and ruffles his hair, and Felix flails and tries to swat him away while Rodrigue laughs. 

“Merry Christmas, Uncle Rodrigue!” Dimitri greets the man, hugging him tightly as Rodrigue lets out a hearty laugh. 

Rodrigue holds up two boxes. “You and your sister better not open these until tomorrow. Santa told me to pass these your way.” As Felix rolls his eyes, Lambert takes the presents to place them under the tree. Rodrigue leans to the side to wave at Edelgard across the hall. 

The whole crew gathers in the dining room, with Gramma taking command at the head of the table. Patricia is setting down the last of the foods: the cranberry sauce and the corn chowder, before taking her seat beside Lambert. Pop is sitting beside Lambert on Gramma’s left, while Dedue is on her right, getting absolutely zero eye contact from either grandparent. Dimitri is on Dedue’s right, and then Edelgard beside him, and then Hubert beside her. Felix is at the opposite head of the table next to Hubert and Rodrigue. The kids table is comically stuffed with Sylvain, Claude, Hilda, Dorothea, and Ferdinand. Sylvain’s long legs are impossible to cram under the tiny table. None of them can actually manage to sit properly besides Hilda, who is the only one who doesn’t have to sit awkwardly sideways. 

The dinner is off to a smooth enough start after everyone has quietly filled their plates, and the soft din of friendly chatter fills the room. 

The friendliness comes to a screeching halt when Pop asks Dimitri, “So, have you got a little girlfriend yet? That pink-haired girl is a little short, but she’s cute.”

Hilda, from the kids’ table, fumes while Dimitri nearly spits up his stuffing. “Pop…! I’m not exactly sure that’s appropriate…!” Dedue stiffens beside him, but keeps eating quietly. 

Pop grunts. “What, you always complain when I talk about the election, what else am I s’posed to talk about…?”

Patricia pours herself a second glass of red wine while Lambert groans and rubs his temples. “Dad…”

“What?”

“This food is very lovely!” Ferdinand compliments. “Everyone did a beautiful job!” 

“You’re welcome,” Claude teases, turning on his reindeer lights and pretending to ram Sylvain, who opens his mouth and bites down on one antler. 

“You have very… diverse friends,” Gramma remarks. “Are they all Edelgard’s friends?”

Edelgard is about to open her mouth until Dimitri stabs a green bean with his fork and says, “No, they’re my friends too, Gramma. And I love them very much.” He nudges Dedue’s leg with his own under the table, and Dedue smiles a bit as he sips his glass of wine. 

Claude raises his hand antagonistically. “I for one adore Dimitri and Edelgard equally.” He raises his own glass of hard cider. “We went shopping today and talked about how much capitalism ruins lives!” Hilda elbows him in the ribs and he nearly spills his drink. 

“Yes, I’ve been meaning to ask, why are you wearing that sweater?” Gramma scolds, gesturing to Edelgard. “I mean, that’s just… Christmas is about religion. It’s not about all that… economic nonsense.” She waves her hand. “You’re… you don’t understand how the economy works.”

Edelgard taps her fork against her plate. “No, I don’t understand how the economy works. It doesn’t make sense to me at all! I mean, not being able to afford a home with a normal-paying wage? Going into tens of thousands of dollars of debt after trying to get an education? One that’s _required_ in order to get into any entry-level position?”

“Oh, now you’re just being antagonistic,” Gramma mutters. “You and your brother have no idea how good you have it.” 

“Maybe finding good work would be easier if we’d stop letting so many people into the country,” Pop grumbles, and Claude cackles deliberately loud.

“Let’s talk about something positive!” Sylvain pipes up, and Lambert begins to nod in proud agreement before he stands and raises his glass in the air. “Felix, I love you!”

Felix buries his head in his hands while Patricia finishes a fourth glass of wine. 

Pop grunts while Gramma blinks, stunned. 

Hubert toasts back to Sylvain. “Happy Hanukkah.” Dorothea cheers. 

The grandparents shake their heads in exasperation, muttering some things that probably no one even wants to hear. Edelgard reaches under the table and starts messing around on her phone, furiously typing. 

[ ](https://ibb.co/VjwDWsD)

Edelgard turns to Lambert with a sweet smile, and he looks at her with a strained one. 

“Daddy?”

“Honey…”

“Can Byleth and their dad come over? Please? They’ll bring food.”

Before Lambert can answer, mashed potatoes nearly dribble out of Dimitri’s mouth as he pipes up, “Byleth is coming? I love Byleth!”

The entire kids’ table erupts in agreement after him.

“Who… is Byleth?” Gramma asks. 

Not even fifteen minutes later, Byleth is entering the dining room with Jeralt, holding a store-bought rotisserie chicken in a plastic tub. They smile as they set it down on the adults’ table. Felix relinquishes his seat for Jeralt so that he can sit next to Sylvain instead. Lambert pulls up a stool from the kitchen island for Byleth, so they don’t have to get sentenced to the kids’ table (where there’s currently a heated discussion about whether biting your lip is autocannibalism).

Byleth smiles across the table at Edelgard, who flushes a soft pink and smiles back behind a spoonful of cranberry sauce. 

“Oh, you’ve finally got a boyfriend?” Pop grunts. 

Edelgard lets out a long sigh. “Byleth… Byleth isn’t a boy, Pop. They’re just a person.”

Pop narrows his eyes and crinkles his brows in boomer confusion.

Byleth, completely unabashed, smiles directly at the old man while they dump gravy over their entire plate.

Jeralt clears his throat. “Lambert, Patricia, good to see you both.”

“Good to see you, too,” they answer at the same time, Lambert in pain, Patricia slurring.

There’s an awfully painful awkward silence for the next seven minutes while everyone mutually agrees to just shut the fuck up and eat their food. Claude and Sylvain keep bothering the adults’ table to pick at the store-bought chicken. Other than that, it’s… peaceful… ish?

Until Dorothea says, “We should sing Christmas carols!” 

Lambert stands up, elated to have a chance to leave the goddamn table. “Yes! Who wants to sing something?” He downs the rest of his wife’s wine and rushes to the living room with Dorothea and basically the entire kids’ table. Edelgard smiles and politely pushes her chair in. “Byleth? Would you like to come with me?” 

Byleth smiles. “Sure.”

Lambert seats himself in the big armchair and claps excitedly. “Okay, let’s hear something good!”

Hubert follows to listen to Ferdinand sing with Dorothea - They’re going to duet “Santa Baby.” The entire party gathers and stuffs themselves into the living room. While Ferdinand and Dorothea sexily serenade the entire room, Claude nudges his gift bags over to Dimitri and Edelgard. 

“Open ‘em!”

The siblings grin and oblige, unveiling two sets of accessories. For Dimitri, a bejeweled hairtie, and for Edelgard, a floral headband. 

“I made them!” Hilda brags, leaning over Claude’s shoulder. 

“They’re lovely!” Edelgard exclaims, and Byleth moves over to place the headband on her and runs their hands gently through her platinum hair. Edelgard smiles contently, letting their fingers brush her soft hair over her shoulders. 

Dimitri crawls over to Felix to bug him, insisting he tie Dimitri’s hair up. 

After Ferdinand and Dorothea finish up their unusually erotic carol, Lambet pulls Rodrigue to his feet. “Come on, sing with me, Rod!” 

Rodrigue sweats a little. “I… Well, um, okay you’re already putting on the song.”

“Yep!” Lambert says, handing him the second mic as the backing track to “Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer” plays. 

Claude whispers, “I mean, this could just be a premonition if I decide to go buckwild,” in Edelgard’s ear, and she hoots with laughter. 

Pop and Gramma were already not having the best time after the first song, but then Sylvain, Hilda, and Claude step up to the mic.

A familiar electric guitar riff sounds, and bells jingle, as the song begins and Sylvain opens his big mouth. 

“Stroke on my, lick on my, suck on my-”

Dedue erupts into a coughing fit to try and mask Sylvain’s vulgarity. But it’s too late, Jeralt is slapping his knee and wheezing. Hilda abandons the song when she realizes the version is... that. Pop and Gramma are muttering to each other and then to Lambert. 

“Oh, you can’t stay the night?” Lambert repeats their whisper aloud to their dismay. He’s less than sober, so who could blame him? 

Gramma shakes her head with a strained smile. “No, we have to get back to the dog. It’s… sick.” 

“I thought your dog died last year!” Lambert blurts. 

“Yeah, he’s REALLY sick,” Pop grunts, pulling Gramma to her feet. “We’ve gotta run, actually.”

Patricia and Lambert both stand, with Dimitri and Edelgard in tow, to help the grandparents into their coats. 

Gramma kisses and pinches both the grandkids’ cheeks, as well as Lambert’s. “Well, this was a lovely evening! Even though your wife is far too drunk!”

“It’s my house,” Patricia chirps, “So I’ll say how drunk I need to be to stand you~”

Gramma’s mouth opens with a pop as her chapped lips smack, and Pop leads her out the door by the arm. “We’ll see ya next year, everyone!”

Lambert waves, grinning from ear to ear. “Yeah! I’ll call soon!” The door closes. They’re out of sight. 

“Dad, you never call,” Dimitri points out. 

“Yeah, I know.” Lambert pats his shoulder. “Why don’t we go sing some Rudolph?”

Three of them disappear back into the living room as Byleth emerges to meet Edelgard. She leans slyly against the archway and smiles at them, chuckling softly when they reach a hand up to touch her cheek. 

“You’re like a lucky charm,” she compliments, “They left so soon after you arrived.”

“I think it might be because of Sylvain,” Byleth replies, the beginning of a laugh in their voice.

Edelgard shrugs, still just helplessly beaming at them. “Either way. I’m happy you’re here…”

Byleth smiles warmly, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear and poking her pretty headband. “You look cute… El.” Their voice softens with shyness when they use her nickname.

Edelgard’s face flushes bright enough to match the lights on the Christmas tree. “I’ve been standing under this mistletoe for forty five seconds now. If you keep me waiting any longer, I’m going to send you back to Rhea myself.”

Byleth laughs, and pulls Edelgard in, sweeping her off her feet and kissing her. She wraps her arms around their shoulders and kisses them back sweetly, giggling against their lips. Only Byleth can get her heart racing like this, huh? 

And they keep kissing, and their hearts keep racing, as Sylvain and Claude screech, “Now that you eat my meat

I'll never have to beat my meat

Thanks for strokin' my

Thanks for lickin' my

Thanks for suckin' my cock!!!”


End file.
